The new workspace Matthias Chen had arranged for the Next-Sharp collaboration was sleek and modern—all glass walls, ergonomic furniture, and ambient lighting designed to stimulate creativity. It occupied the entire twenty-third floor of a recently renovated building downtown, with sweeping views of the city skyline. After just two weeks of intensive work, James had already learned every inch of the space, from the well-stocked kitchen to the various conference rooms named after innovators: Edison, Curie, Jobs, and Musk.
Tonight, Victoria had commandeered the Curie room, spreading documents across the long table as she prepared for tomorrow's presentation to the investors. The digital clock on the wall read 9:47 PM, and they were the only ones left in the office. The rest of the team—a mix of Sharp Innovations and Next Technologies employees—had filed out hours ago, leaving behind empty coffee cups and the lingering scent of takeout food.
James stood at the whiteboard, transcribing Victoria's rapid-fire directives into a coherent action plan. The marker squeaked against the glossy surface as he tried to capture her thoughts.
"The revenue projections need to be more aggressive," Victoria said, pacing the length of the table. "Matthias is going to push for conservative estimates, but that undersells our potential impact."
James nodded, adding another bullet point to the growing list. "We should include the alternative scenarios in the appendix, though. The board will want to see all possible outcomes."
Victoria paused, considering this. "Fine. But our primary presentation needs to convey confidence." She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back slightly to relieve the tension of hours hunched over documents.
James forced himself to look away, focusing intently on the whiteboard. Over the past two weeks, his attraction to Victoria had evolved from an inconvenient distraction to a constant, humming awareness that invaded even his dreams. Working in such close proximity had only intensified the problem. Here, away from the formal structure of Sharp Innovations, Victoria had relaxed fractionally—not enough for anyone else to notice, but James had spent three years learning to read her micro-expressions. He noticed everything: the occasional unguarded smile when a team member made a clever observation, the way she sometimes forgot to reapply her lipstick after lunch, the rare moments when she'd absently tap her pen against her bottom lip while lost in thought.
"Are you listening, James?" Victoria's sharp voice cut through his wandering thoughts.
"Forty percent projected growth in the first year, with emphasis on new market penetration," he repeated automatically, grateful that his brain had apparently been tracking her words even as his mind had drifted.
Victoria narrowed her eyes slightly but continued. "The implementation timeline needs to be accelerated. Six months is too long—we'll lose momentum."
"Four months is the absolute minimum for systems integration of this scale," James countered, capping the marker and turning to face her. "Even that's pushing it."
Victoria waved a dismissive hand. "Details. We'll make it work."
James bit back a retort about the laws of physics and resource limitations. Two weeks into the project, and they'd already fallen into a new rhythm—Victoria pushing for the impossible, James pulling her back to reality, both of them eventually landing on something ambitious but achievable. It was exhausting but undeniably effective.
"I ordered dinner," James said, glancing at his watch. "Should be here in about fifteen minutes."
Victoria looked up, surprised. "It's that late already?"
"Nearly ten. And you skipped lunch."
Her eyebrows rose. "You're monitoring my meal schedule now?"
"Someone has to," James replied, keeping his tone light. "You get irritable when your blood sugar drops."
He expected a sharp retort, but Victoria merely shrugged, conceding the point. "What did you order?"
"Thai. The pad Thai you pretend not to like but always steal from my plate when we have working lunches."
A flicker of amusement crossed Victoria's face. "I don't steal food."
"You absolutely do," James said, gathering empty water bottles from the table. "You think no one notices because you're Victoria Sharp, CEO, but I've watched you sneak bites for three years."
"That's different," Victoria argued, though a ghost of a smile played at her lips. "Sampling is a strategic necessity. How else would I know what to order next time?"
"By ordering it yourself instead of the rabbit food you think maintains your image?"
The moment the words left his mouth, James tensed, waiting for the chill that typically followed any comment about her carefully curated persona. But Victoria merely leaned back in her chair, studying him with an unreadable expression.
"You have a very specific view of me, don't you, James?"
The question caught him off guard. "I—"
"You think I'm all calculation and image," she continued, her voice surprisingly free of accusation. "That everything I do is strategic."
James chose his words carefully. "I think you're deliberate. You don't leave things to chance if you can help it."
"Is that a criticism or an observation?"
"It's what makes you effective," James said honestly. "You control what you can control."
Victoria nodded slowly, as if he'd confirmed something she'd already suspected. "And you think my eating habits fall into that category?"
"Don't they?"
Instead of answering, Victoria gathered several documents, tapping them against the table to align their edges. "The investor deck needs another review. I want your eyes on it before tomorrow."
Just like that, the moment of personal conversation was over, the professional mask firmly back in place. James felt a familiar mixture of frustration and fascination. Victoria excelled at these tactical retreats, opening a door just enough to glimpse something real before slamming it shut again.
The food arrived shortly after, and they spread the containers across the conference table, the scent of basil and garlic filling the room. Victoria had removed her blazer hours ago, and the silk blouse underneath clung to her curves in a way that made James focus intently on his noodles. Her hair, usually perfectly styled, had begun to escape its sleek updo, a few strands curling rebelliously around her face.
"You were right," Victoria conceded after several minutes of companionable silence, gesturing with her fork toward the pad Thai she had been steadily consuming. "This is good."
"I'm frequently right," James said mildly. "You just rarely admit it."
Victoria's lips quirked. "Don't push your luck."
They ate quietly for a while, the tension of the day gradually easing from their shoulders. Outside the windows, the city sparkled beneath them, a constellation of lights stretching to the horizon. Within the glass walls of the Curie room, a strange intimacy had developed—not quite friendship, but something less formal than their usual working relationship.
"Tell me something, James," Victoria said suddenly, setting down her fork and reaching for her water bottle. "Why did you stay? After our... disagreement a few weeks ago. Chad Winters would have hired you in a heartbeat."
James considered the question seriously. "I'm not sure Chad actually wants an assistant. He wants someone to admire him."
"And I don't?"
"You want someone to challenge you," James said without hesitation. "Within reason."
Victoria tilted her head slightly, studying him. "That's an interesting theory."
"It's not a theory. It's an observation based on three years of working for you. You hire people who tell you what you want to hear, then you get frustrated when they do exactly that."
"That's not—" Victoria began, then stopped herself. "Perhaps there's some truth to that."
Coming from Victoria, this was tantamount to a full confession. James blinked in surprise.
"You look shocked," Victoria noted, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"I'm not used to you agreeing with me about anything personal."
Victoria shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "It's late. My defenses are down."